


Peanut Butter Biscuits

by sweetbutterbliss



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, Frottage, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Arthur, Oblivious Eames, POV Eames, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-26
Updated: 2017-01-26
Packaged: 2018-09-20 03:22:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9473210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetbutterbliss/pseuds/sweetbutterbliss
Summary: He blew out a loud sigh, maybe the fourth or fifth one in the last ten minutes but Arthur ignored him. Eames slid down in despair his arms crossed over his chest and his head propped against the arm rest. Even with his knees pulled up his stocking feet brushed against Arthur's thighs.He had possibly been sidetracked many times imagining dirty things about Arthur's thighs but it wouldn't do to get an erection in front of all the cat statues.  He pushed his toes against Arthur. Tentatively at first but when it received no reaction he pressed harder kneading into the warm skin and mussing the fabric of his tailored trousers.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HTH31](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HTH31/gifts).



> This is a birthday gift for my beta. So it's not beta'd. Cause that would be a pretty lame gift. 
> 
> My SO calls it Peanut Butter Biscuits. I get the biscuits part but who knows where the peanut butter part came from. He's a weird dude.

Legal dream work was dead boring. 

Dom and Arthur insisted on calling everyone clients now they'd gone legitimate. But Eames still dabbled in the illegal side of dream sharing occasionally and a mark was a mark. Call him old fashioned. 

The _mark_ was a tiny tottering old woman who was filthy rich and dying. She had pinched Arthur's bum during their first meeting and only smiled beatifically at Arthur's horrified look. Eames adored her quite a bit.

She wanted a dream based on her heyday before her sweetheart had gone off to the second great war and gotten himself blown up. 

They were designing a beach front club, all very CasaBlanca-esque and Eames was forging her sweetheart. But he'd perfected it ages ago. He'd even got a tight lipped approving nod from Arthur, high praise indeed. 

Instead of a dingy warehouse they were working out of one her many houses. The room Arthur had set them up in was what his dear old mother would call the drawing room. Eames referred to it as the terrifying doily and cat room. How many cat statues could one woman have, honestly? Their eyes followed him and he spent as little time alone in there as possible.

Currently Arthur was keeping him company at the other end of the overly plush, overly floral settee. It wasn't a comfortable piece of furniture by any means but Arthur still some how looked perfectly content with one long leg crossed over his knee and reviewing documents on his tablet. His sleeves were rolled up and Eames tried not to focus on the cords of muscle in his forearms. 

He blew out a loud sigh, maybe the fourth or fifth one in the last ten minutes but Arthur ignored him. Eames slid down in despair his arms crossed over his chest and his head propped against the arm rest. Even with his knees pulled up his stocking feet brushed against Arthur's thighs. 

He had possibly been sidetracked many times imagining dirty things about Arthur's thighs but it wouldn't do to get an erection in front of all the cat statues. He pushed his toes against Arthur. Tentatively at first but when it received no reaction he pressed harder kneading into the warm skin and mussing the fabric of his tailored trousers. 

Arthur turned slowly and looked at Eames then down at his moving feet and then back up at him with a raised brow. 

"Yes, love?" Eames grinned at him.

"Why are you doing peanut butter biscuits on my leg?" Arthur set the tablet down on the side table.

"Peanut what now?" Eames was delighted at the way Arthur's ears turned red.

"It's what my grandmother called that thing cats do. When they push their paws against you?" He stretched his hands out in a claw like gesture and flexed his fingers back and forth with a confused expression on his face like he didn't know how he got into this conversation.

"We just called in kneading, or marching." Eames confided.

"Oh." Arthur reached for his tablet again and Eames scowled.

He watched Arthur work for a few minutes cataloging the way his mouth twisted to the side in thought and he wanted to smooth out the line between his eyebrows with his thumb. He likes to people watch. Collecting mannerisms and quirks for a forge but Arthur is different. He just wants to see him and wonder about him. He'd never use a piece of Arthur for a job. 

It also made him want to disrupt him. Get him to talk about his grandmother again or even smile at something Eames has done. So he pushed against his leg more insistent. 

"Hey." 

Arthur ignored him.

"Hey." He pushed harder.

"Hey. Hey. Hey." 

"What?" Arthur glared at him. 

"Hi." Eames smiled and his heart almost flipped over when Arthur tried to smother his answering smile with another glare but his dimples gave him away.

"I'm working, Eames." He attempted to go back to it but Eames had already gotten a taste and needed more attention.

"Hey. Hey." He kneaded against him harder and squeaked mid 'hey' when Arthur grabbed his feet in his long fingers and held it still without even looking at him. Eames tired to wiggle out of the grip but Arthurs hands are strong and that thought left Eames helpless to his usual filthy daydreams about their pointman.

"While you're there I could do with a massage, darling." 

To his great shock Arthur moved his hand and started pressing gently into the ball of his feet with his thumb and Eames shivered. Arthur has this devastating affect on him where just the slightest touch will have him boneless and so he sighed and propped his other foot up in Arthur's lap and closedhis eyes. Arthur shifted around and started using both hands. It's all Eames can do not to moan out loud when the hands slipped up his trousers and circled his ankle. 

He decided, as he dozes off, that he's fucking pathetic and this crush has gotten entirely too out of hand. He'll just have to go find another dark haired man in a suit to take it out on after the job is over. 

***

He had every intention of following through on his plan. The last week had left him with too much time to think. About Arthur. Arthur's arse and Arthur's mouth. But also Arthur's laugh and the way Arthur rolls his eyes at Eames when Cobb said something ridiculous. (which was 90% of the time.) 

He had a lovely bendy twink in Greece whose number he'd dug up and was going to spend a week in bed with until he couldn't remember his own name, much less bloody Arthur's.

He thought but still couldn't stop watching Arthur wind up the PASIV cord and tuck everything back neatly before snapping the case shut. 

"Eames." 

"Yes, poppet?" 

Arthur rolled his eyes but was smiling at him. 

"Would you like to come with me to Paris?" 

"Not another bloody job, Arthur. I do love to work with you but this legal shit is for the birds."

"Not for a job." Arthur looked uncertain now chewing on his bottom lip.

"What's in Paris then?" 

Arthur fidgeted. Eames had never seen him like this and it's fascinating. 

"Well. Me. I'm in Paris." He pointed to himself and Eames was charmed beyond belief. He moved closer.

"What else then?" 

"Um. My apartment." 

Eames reached out and hooked a finger through Arthur's belt loop and tugged him forward until they were chest to chest. Arthur swallowed.

"What else?" Eames was whispering now.

"Good food?" 

"You can do better than that." Eames pressed his face against Arthur's neck and breathed in.

"Art?" There's was smile in his voice now.

"I can paint any of that drivel for you right here." He kissed along Arthur's jaw. "What. Else?" 

They were a hair's breadth away from kissing and Arthur smiled.

"My bed is there." 

Eames didn't bother replying just wrapped an arm around his waist and pressed their mouths together. Arthur opened his on a sigh and Eames pushed his tongue in. They stayed like that forgetting everything else around them until they had to break for air. 

Arthur was gasping a little and his ears had turned red but his smile is huge and Eames wanted to keep it there forever. 

"I'm not entirely convinced, Arthur." He let his voice drop low and dirty. "What else have you got for me in Paris?" He rolled his hips against Arthur's own feeling their cocks brushed together. Arthur panted and rolled back.

"I have...uh...my cat!" Arthur declared and Eames stopped and stared at him. 

"That is the worst dirty talk I've ever heard." 

"It does the marching biscuit thing like you do." He maked the claw gesture again with his hands. 

Eames blinked and throws his head back laughing. "You are such a delightful surprise."

Arthur blushed and so Eames just had to kiss him again.

***

They don't make it to the Paris bed. The poor cat statues will never be the same again.

**Author's Note:**

> Everyday I'm [tumblin'](http://www.sweetbutterbliss.tumblr.com)


End file.
